"the idea of arriving somewhere we might forever more call our home is an illusion"



"its seems almost that exile (in the sense of intentional abandonment by one's own choice or an actual space of exile beyond all affiliations) brings alive an inner calling to retrace the thousands of steps, which we intuit as living in our cells, as dancing through our memory in unfathomably shifting, deceptive images."







we have to retrace our last 1000 steps to find where we should have been all along. the roots in which we grow have never stemmed from a sense of security. but in fact this idea of "aerial exile".



the "I" then becomes singular again...leaving our traceable steps visible.

.the space.

the stairs



the morning bed.



the dinner


the kitchen window




the boxes

woodie: i love your requests.... thanks!

a book i am working on.. here is a very very small part....

these are some layouts and photos... it is a small book. 4.5x4.5

the images are open as if the book were spread out. so think front and back... and double pages...


the cover
back front


some possible layouts...






also, there are marker notes hand written on the pages,of edits i wanted to do... that will stay,without the edit... it kind looks like this.. but better : )

fictional pretenses

its the memory of morning whispers and moonlight chandeliers
it is how she wished love remembered her
it is what she wants to see in the reflection of their eyes
it is the fine line between reality and fantasy
time escaping us
becoming us.
a vague recognition through the grain and dust
becoming us.
as real as summer snow
so quickly turning into the end of our wardrobe
willingly into Narnia.
a game we play as children
yielding to our past as if we had a choice
this is the moment our legs slip
and desire became fragments of our bodies
flashing through our minds like broken film strips in old theatres.
intimate moments fade further with each passing glance
and soon become unrecognizable.

invited...

i was asked to shoot this play... working with deaf youth.. it was incredible. i never really considered sign language in german...feeling yet another degree of separation from the verbal form of language...forcing the collaboration of the mind and communication though art... amazing.
1..


23.



66



31



44



64



83



57



76



88



68



the cast

missing it...

today it came from the mid-west he said... Chicago perhaps

last night it came from the rain, under the awning, inside my glass of wine, written on my blank pages, it came from France, actually it was whispered in my ear, from the breath of a mouth that spoke french with love... and in the morning it came from my heart as it danced across my skin, trickling in from my chipping white pained window...

and walking home this evening, it came from the park i sat in, the cafe i sipped from, the sidewalk i fled from, the train i missed, the mouth i wanted to kiss, the lonely street i wandered, and corner i smoked on, the doorway i stood in before i climbed my mountain home. and sitting here now, the same white window welcomes the skin of lovers its kisses, and oceans that carried it, the hands it held, eyes it missed, the doors it closed, the cracks that welcomed it, and the arms that needed it.

i close my eyes, and think of you, and hope the same breeze that expands my lungs with the deepest of breaths and fills my imagination with the wildest stories...came from your skin, from your window, from you.

body art conjunction

i have been trying to make this blog for a while now, and really don't know how i want to present this work.. so i will preface this, as it is a beginning to a project i am currently working on called "stitching" it will be a part of a book project... as well as, hopefully, hung on gallery walls when i return... once i have this project a bit more thought out with words i will elaborate (mostly for you wood, cause you are the only one who follows this anyway, and i tell T everything before i even think it, so this really should be titled the Woody project! love you.

so comments are very welcome...

Abhorchen...




die muse...




verführen...



vergewaltigen...















entkommen





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